


Next Time

by LadyLattice



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Rivalry, anon request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6745723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLattice/pseuds/LadyLattice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senju Tobirama and Uchiha Izuna had always been rivals, evenly matched in strength, skill, and position. Their entire bond rested atop a vague, unspoken promise of "next time".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fic request I got from a lovely anon on Tumblr, and it ended up being a bit too long to just share as a text post. Plus, I thought you guys might like it, too. I've never written TobiIzu before, so be gentle with me.

Pursuing Hashirama in his illicit ventures to the riverside was tedious and dull, but vital, though Tobirama could scarcely complain about the chance to be alone in nature, away from the mournful bustle of the Senju encampment. He sighed softly and shifted on the branch of the oak upon which he sat, leaking a bit of his vast chakra from its careful suppression to unfurl his senses like the wings of some great bird, feeling about the area for any significant changes. The distinctively warm, yet earthen signature of his brother’s power flashed into his mind with the same brightness of his smile; it was nearly blinding for most sensors, though it could quickly grow dark and menacing in foreboding of its sheer destructive ability. Beside him was his Uchiha companion, whose chakra roiled in such a vicious inferno of determination and vile force that it made Tobirama’s stomach churn with discomfort, nauseous under its weight.

A small flicker of an additional signature – as prudently concealed as his own – grasped the pale-haired boy’s attention, and he narrowed his perception, reading the chakra like the face of an open scroll. _Another Uchiha,_ he determined. _About my age. Probably doing the exact same thing that I am._

Curious, he darted between the trees carefully unseen and crossed the river to perch in a tree behind the source of the extraneous signature, crimson gaze narrowing at the figure balanced on a limb several boughs away. The boy was slight in stature – unsurprising, as the previous winter had been cruel to all of the warring clans, enemies and allies alike – with dark hair and creamy skin so characteristic of the Uchiha, and a shinobi by trade, judging from the weapons pouch sashed against his hip.

 _Pretty,_ Tobirama thought before he could stop himself, though he scolded himself for permitting such obscene musings to invade his mind. _He’s an Uchiha… an enemy. Maybe I should kill him now before he can kill me later._

Deft fingers sought out the kunai by his belt, but soon Hashirama was moving back towards the clan compound as his companion sped in the opposite direction, and the younger Senju’s target began to spring quickly between limbs just as Tobirama activated his flying raijin and was deposited by the compound’s north gate. He sighed and grit his teeth, slipping the knife back into the sack at his lower back and dragging a small hand through tousled silver hair.

“Next time,” the little Senju reassured no one at all. “I’ll strike him down next time, if I must.”

 _If we both manage to live that long_ , he included in the silence of his own mind, pouting mildly at the thought. Springtime was in full bloom and soon the battles would resume in equal fervor, the stagnant conflict melting away with the last of winter’s frost as the war of long-passed generations recommenced once again. _No. Next time. Next time for certain._

{{{}}}

His next meeting with the boy from the opposite side of the river came sooner than he had expected, and Tobirama was pleased with his opponent’s impressive strength that rivaled his own, despite both being but mere children. As Hashirama’s heart shattered – a sound practically audible through the pitiful weeping of his chakra – the younger Senju could never tear his gaze from the other boy, even as a conflict passionate enough to awaken Madara’s Sharingan raged just before his eyes.

 _Izuna_ , Tobirama learned at last when the name had spilt from Uchiha Tajima’s wicked tongue, and he echoed those three simple syllables in his mind for days afterwards, though they were never spoken aloud. _Izuna. Izuna. Izuna._

They were rivals now, he decided stubbornly, matched in strength and skill and the second heirs to their respective clans, powerful in their own rights though they lurked in the vast shadows of their elder brothers. Yet in those shadows they remained as they grew, blossoming into men – into weapons honed for a single volatile purpose – meeting repeatedly upon the plains of battle as if knotted together by the cruel scarlet threads of destiny.

 _Next time,_ Tobirama would remind himself after each clash of their wills, when he sat in the dim light of the evenings, rinsing Uchiha blood from his armor and blade. _Next time, Izuna._

{{{}}}

The chill of late winter was brutal as Tobirama sat crouched in the midnight shadows of the forest outside the Uchiha compound, watching, waiting, noting each change of guard in preparation for a raid on the enemy’s food stores. A flicker of familiar chakra snatched his attention, and he suppressed his own signature as desperately as he could, noting Hashirama’s order to avoid conflict at all costs.

_Izuna._

Briefly, a rustling to his left alerted him to the kunai that came hurtling from the darkness, thumping resolutely into the tree trunk just beside his head. “Fancy meeting you here, Senju,” a teasing voice lilted through the silence of the night. “Don’t worry, as long as you are alone I will not raise the alarm.”

“Izuna,” Tobirama said in a low growl, savoring the flavor of the name as it slipped from his tongue for the first time. “What do you want?”

“It would make more sense if I were to ask that question, don’t you think?” the Uchiha asked around a smug chuckle, stepping nearer from the blackness of the forest until he stood nearly chest to chest with the pale-haired man, watching with scrutinizing Sharingan-clad eyes.

The beauty that Tobirama had unconsciously noted all those years ago had only developed since, Izuna’s slender frame and onyx hair and milky skin even more radiant in the silver splinters of moonlight that sank through the canopy above. He frowned, knitting his brows together at the tug of brutal scars that adorned his own cheeks at the action. “Why haven’t you tried to kill me yet?”

“Oh. I would rather do so on the battlefield, so that your clan can watch their second-in-command crumple under my blade. It couldn’t be good for their morale, and that’s exactly what aniki seeks. If you wound a man’s heart deeply enough, it becomes child’s play to wound his body. Don’t you agree? Also, I’ve rather wanted to try this, and I couldn’t very well do it if you were dead,” Izuna told him, relishing in a moment of brief silence before leaning to seal his mouth against the taller man’s, tongue carefully tracing the undulations of his lips.

“Izuna,” the Senju sighed as thin lips pressed against the angry red scar on his cheek, though he narrowed his eyes dangerously when his attempted kiss was denied by a single slender finger.

“Next time,” the Uchiha teased with a crooked smirk, vanishing into the darkness as quickly as he had appeared and leaving Tobirama thirsty.

_Next time._

{{{}}}

Mere weeks later, when the frozen ground had just begun to thaw into a sloppy mess of muck and blood, they met once more on the fields of war, Tobirama eager to test the newest variation of his hiraishin in combat conditions. The clash was fierce as ever, jutsu and sword blows negated with familiar precision, cloaking the battleground in steam and scoring the fight with a crystalline symphony of steel ringing against steel.

 _We are no longer rivals,_ the Senju reminded himself as he summoned the chakra necessary for the hiraishingiri and poised his sword to strike. _Rivalries are for children. We are truly enemies now. Aren’t we, Izuna?_

In an instant his blade sought flesh, tearing through the other man’s side with vicious intent, and Tobirama frowned mildly at the sputtering cry of discomfort that tore from Izuna’s lips, the sound of blood falling upon wet earth cruelly loud in his ears. A cough, weak, and then the Uchiha was chuckling, a smirk on his lips as Madara flew to his side in a rage of panic.

“I’ll get you back… for that… Senju. Next time.”

“Yeah,” Tobirama muttered, the bellows of Madara’s concern and Hashirama’s soothing replies nearly drowning away his voice. “Next time.”


End file.
